


Interference

by ZenithMaguire



Series: Harold in Italy [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, Angst, Death, Delusions, F/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mental Health Issues, idk how to tag this, kind of a Morbid Fantasy i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 14:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7466922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZenithMaguire/pseuds/ZenithMaguire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harold is living in a specialist care home in Italy, where he finds peace in his own way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interference

**Author's Note:**

> Content note: this story is quite sad, a little bit creepy, and also there's psychosis and post-canonical major character death. Yikes. Sorry.

He's so happy since he found John again.

It's a little awkward to say the least, when Grace comes to visit, but she tells him she's glad, so glad that John found his way back to him. She seems to want to change the subject, and Harold is too contented to mind. He has so much to talk about now, so many little delights. 

\------

Shaw gets out of the cab. It’s a once-grand old house that’s been converted, with a large garden ringed with trees. She’s greeted in broken English by a friendly middle-aged woman who gestures towards the grounds. Grace sees her and waves, comes to meet her, leading an ancient dog with stiff hips and a solemn expression. Shaw pets its big handsome head, and it licks her hand gently.

'This is Carlo,' Grace says, scruffing up the dog's ears. He looks at her adoringly with round, brown eyes. 'It's so good to see you, Sameen. I know it'll mean a lot to him when he realises you're here.'

'He didn't know I was coming?'

'Like I said, he's a little confused these days. Sometimes he's all there, sometimes he drifts. I'm not always sure how much he remembers of what I've told him. But they take good care of him here. He always seems happy.'

Grace's smile is bright and warm, but she sounds a little tired and Shaw guesses she must be glad to share the burden. 

'I should warn you, he can say some…surprising things sometimes. He isn’t always sure who’s who, who’s still here and who’s…gone. He has to take quite a lot of medications for his physical problems, besides anything else. Some days he gets quite chatty, other times he’s more distant. But maybe your being here will help him find a little solid ground.'

Shaw looks across the lawn to the wheelchair next to a little table. The little body in it looks so frail and vulnerable from here. An attendant makes his way across the glass with a jug and glasses, sets them down, and squats next to Harold, fidgeting at his neck, rearranging his collar apparently, resettling his spectacles on his nose. Shaw is surprised to hear a laugh, see an arm pushing the young man away affectionately. 

'I hope you aren't expecting too much. He's as sweet as ever, but,'

'He might not recognise me.'

Grace winces. 'Maybe not right away. I'm sorry. But when he does, he'll be overjoyed. There are times when I think he has no idea who I am, and then suddenly he'll light up and be almost his old self.'

'Right. Got it.' Shaw decides to grit her teeth and get it over with. 'I think I'll go say hi.' 

'Would you like to take the dog with you for a moment? I usually have a word with the staff about how things are going.'

Shaw takes the leash, happy to have a little backup, and Carlo pads contentedly alongside her. When she approaches Harold he is smiling up at her beatifically. He's wearing round glasses with wire frames, and his face is slightly pinked and clean-shaven, open and relaxed as he basks in the warm air. 

'Hello?' he says to her, drawing his brows together quizzically but without alarm. Carlo lies down protectively beside him, panting gently. Harold trails a hand lazily up and down the dog’s bristly brown back, looking up at Shaw. 

'Harold?' she sits down on the grass in front of him. 

'It's very nice to meet you, Ms…?'

'Shaw. Sameen Shaw.' She doesn't know what she expected. She knows she can't get angry, there's nothing Harold can do about it. And he’s probably drugged up to the eyeballs anyway. It feels like another abandonment but that's just the way life is. 

Harold is beaming up at her in blank friendly incomprehension, taking in her face as if she were a new but charming acquaintance.

'Would you like some lemonade? It's very good. '

'Yeah. Yeah, that'd be great. You want me to…?'

'Oh no, no, I'm closer.' Harold wheels a little nearer the table, and pours two glasses. She reaches up for hers and takes a sip. It actually is pretty good. 

'So tell me. Are you a friend of John's? He should have told me you were coming, I'd have put on something nicer. It’s just too warm here to dress up most days.'

Shaw is almost choking. 'It's ok Harold. You look good.' And he does, too. He's dressed in light-coloured, elegant shirt and trousers, his hair is neatly trimmed, his hands immaculately manicured and his shoes glossy and carefully tied. He even smells good, something woody and citrusy. 

'John is so forgetful these days. I have to remind him of practically everything.'

Harold turns his bright blue gaze towards the young man talking to Grace. Shaw turns too and sees the attendant's broad shoulders, his long limbs and easy posture. She can see it, all of a sudden. It's pretty damn disturbing, but if it makes things easier for Harold, perhaps it makes sense. 

'Those two,' says Harold fondly, 'are thick as thieves. Always sneaking off for their private chats. Anyway, it gives us a chance to talk. Please tell me what brings you here today, Ms...?'

\------

Shaw waves goodbye, and Harold waves back cheerfully, before the young man turns his chair around to go inside for supper. Grace gives her a lift back into town, with Carlo reclining across the back seat, and insists that she can at least cook Shaw dinner, since she couldn’t persuade her to stay in the guest room. Shaw doesn’t argue, she’s famished.

'Uh, so, he didn't recognise me at all. ' 

'I'm so sorry. I can understand if it's too difficult for you-'

'No. It's ok, I know how it can be. Try again tomorrow.'

'Of course, your medical training.'

Shaw looks surprised.

'He told me about you, all of you. Little pieces here and there. He loves you all very much, even though he's not always able to be very clear anymore.'

'He. He uh, seemed to think John was there.'

'Yes. Gianni. ' Grace looks uncomfortable. Shaw wishes she hadn't said anything, knowing how things used to be between Harold and Grace. But Grace carries on, trying to sound light and easy. 'Gianni is that tall young man that was there today.'

Shaw nods.

'He's from around here, he’s been working there almost as long as Harold's been there. As soon as he set eyes on him, he seemed to just…well, decide John had finally come back.' Grace looks at Shaw, worried about how she's going to take it. 'I thought he might process things a little differently when he saw you, but I guess he’s sticking to that one. It all feels a little...macabre sometimes, but Harold's been doing so well otherwise...'

'And you can't argue him out of it.'

'It doesn't do any good. He shuts down. And I speak to Gianni all the time, he’s very kind and very professional. He says that Harold is better off happy and mistaken than struggling with…'

Shaw looks down 'Yeah. '

'He was so hurt, when he came here. It was like his energy had just drained away. But now he sits under the trees, watching the birds, reading his books, listening to music, soaking everything in. It was like the sunlight finally reached him again. I take him out sometimes but he always looks forward to going home to John.’

Shaw nods, frowns. 'And what happens when Gianni moves jobs?'

Grace shakes her head, sighing. 'That was exactly my worry; Gianni went on holiday last year, visiting relatives for a few weeks, and Harold was so lost all of a sudden. I think he thought he must have done something to make him angry. I had to get special permission to leave Carlo with him temporarily to cheer him up. But Gianni is a wonderful young man, he's offered to make sure his holidays are broken up into shorter breaks. And his mother lives nearby, she's got chronic health problems of her own, so he has no plans to leave the area. Honestly, he's very fond of Harold and I don’t think he’d hurt him for the world.'

Shaw raises an eyebrow.

'Yes. I know. It's still pretty screwed up, but I don't think...well I think everything's above board. It’s a well-staffed place, I made sure they’re well-trained, and I think they’re good people.'

Shaw nods. She’ll see about that.

\------

Shaw settles herself in the crook of the branches and watches as Gianni enters Harold's room. In her earpiece she hears Harold say quietly 'John? Is that you?' He sounds a little querulous, fretful.

'Yes Harold. Here, let me put your spectacles on the table.' His accent is strong but his English is pretty good, if uncomplicated. A low, pleasant voice. In silhouette, leaning carefully towards Finch, he looks even more like Reese. 'I came to tell you goodnight. You should sleep now.'

'I'm sorry I'm not much help to you these days. I know you have so many people to look after. I’m just so tired. '

'Don't worry, Harold. It's the medication you need for your pain. But it's very important you take it. Just rest.'

'Thank you for taking such good care of me. You've always been so very good to me.'

'Goodnight Harold.'

'Goodnight John.' The main light goes out, leaving just a dim nightlight. The door opens and closes again and she hears Harold sigh peacefully, turning in his bedsheets, his breaths slowing and lengthening. 

Shaw shuts her eyes tight. 'Dammit.' She pulls out her earpiece and packs away her binoculars. She’ll get the bug out of there before she leaves town.

\------

'Ms. Shaw!'

She spins round, and Harold waves at her. Grace is sitting beside him, smiling, with Carlo stretched out in front of her. 

'Harold? It's good to see you.' She's been to see him four times now, and now finally she throws her arms around him, squeezing him awkwardly. 

He laughs and holds her away, looking at her in obvious and unconstrained joy. 'You look very well, Sameen.'

'You don't look so bad yourself.' she says, giving him an awkward little pat on the arm. 

Grace gets up, and leaves them to it. 

\------

'Well?'

'Well. Apparently John has a surprising knack for medieval Italian and is helping him read someone called Boccaccio? For a minute I thought he was talking about bread.' Shaw’s surveillance hasn’t thrown up anything that seems alarming, and she’s been to see Harold one last time before her flight.

Grace laughs. 'Ah. Yes. Harold can't focus all that well but he still enjoys dipping in and out of the old poets.'

'He's lucky to have you to make sure he's ok.'

Grace’s smile is a little sad. 'I'm lucky to have him too. Even like this. He's still a very dear man.'

'I'd like to hear how he's doing once in a while. I'm not sure when I can come back...'

'Of course. I'll keep in touch.'

Shaw pets Carlo goodbye, accepts Grace's hug, and goes down to the cab she insisted on taking to the airport.

\------

The sun is creeping in around the curtains, and the birds are singing. It’s already starting to get warm and Harold wakes, feeling a little befuddled and sluggish. He sits up at the knock on the door, looking around for his glasses. He's been dreaming, not a good dream, he’s glad it’s slipping away already. It made him feel clammy and hollowed out, like he’d lost something precious. 

'John? Are you there?'

The tall figure walks in, setting a glass of tea on the bedside table.

'Always.'

John leans across and places his spectacles over his ears for him, making sure they are straight and comfortable. He smiles at Harold. 

Harold smiles back and knows there’s nothing to be frightened of. 

\------

   
The call comes too early in the morning to be anything good.

‘Ms Hendricks? I'm very sorry.’

‘Gianni? Oh god, Harold?’

‘He went in the night. We believe it was a stroke.’

Carlo runs up and pushes his nose into her hand, and when she puts down the phone she sits hunched over on the chair, holding on to the dog's shoulders and weeping while he tries to lick away her tears.

\------

She has to wait to place the call, because of the time difference.

'I’ll be there as soon as I can.'

'If...I understand if it’s too difficult, Sameen. I know he would understand too.'

'No. It’s ok. I should probably be there.'

Now Grace feels like crying with relief. At least this time she won’t be alone.

\------

As it turns out there are a few other people there: a couple of Grace's friends, some of the staff from the home, and Gianni pushing his mother in a wheelchair, accompanied by his sister. 

‘I thought you might like something to keep,’ says Grace, afterwards. ‘I'll be taking his books and a few things home with me tomorrow. The home will send his clothes to a local charity. Please do pick out anything you’d like as a keepsake.’

‘Yeah. I guess that would be nice.’ Shaw hasn’t really thought about it that much. She guesses it’s what people do. Maybe it would be nice, though.

Shaw looks around the clean, cheery, tidy little room. A couple of warm, sunny landscapes she recognises as Grace's work. A bookshelf with old volumes of poetry mostly, neatly organised clothes in the wardrobe and chest of drawers. She rummages around in the bedside table, there’s a nice watch, some cufflinks. At least they’re honest here, she thinks, no one has pocketed Harold's high end knick-knacks. She pushes the drawer shut again. There’s a quiet knock at the door. 

‘Yeah?’

‘Excuse me, I did not mean to disturb you.’ Gianni’s face is kind, intelligent. Pretty decent-looking too, she has to admit.

‘It's ok.’

‘I thought maybe,' Gianni shrugs with a smile, 'I thought you might like to know he spoke to me of you very fondly.’

Shaw’s face tenses and Gianni looks startled.

'I'm sorry. It's private. I should leave you.'

'No. Come in. I'd like to hear...how he was. Did he talk much about how he knew me?' Shaw feels wary. More than usual, that is.

'Harold was...a very kind and intelligent man. Always a smile. We all liked him and tried to make his time here pleasant. He used to talk about his old job, I did not understand very much I'm afraid.’

‘Yeah, I guess he was pretty confused.’

‘Yes, unfortunately. But I know he cared very much for you. And I think you knew his friend John?' Gianni looks apologetic.

'Uh. Yeah. We worked together, and he was a friend.'

'He was a good man.'

'Yeah. Yeah he was.'

'Harold used to ask me to read from this, sometimes, when his eyes were tired. He used to laugh at the title. I'm not sure I understand why it was funny, but it was something to do with John, I think?' He holds out a hardback book. Shaw reads the title. 'Our Mutual Friend'. 

Shaw takes it, runs her hands over the cover. 

'Thank you. For taking care of him. '

Gianni smiles and nods, then leaves her alone. She slips the book into her bag. 

\------

It’s dark when John shakes him awake. 

'Harold. Harold. We have to get out of here.'

'John? What is it?'

'No time to talk now. Come on. I'm here to get you somewhere safe.'

'Oh god, John, I can't walk, I can’t move. You have to go without me. Please. Go.' Harold is despairing when John bends down and lifts him up. 

'It's fine, Harold. I've got you. Nothing's going to happen to you. Understand?' John raises his eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

Harold looks up at him and nods. 'I'm ready.'

John smiles. Harold rests his head against the dark cloth of John's shoulder and shuts his eyes, suddenly peaceful as a child.


End file.
